


Curtains

by maydei



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic, Fallen Castiel, Fluff, Human Castiel, M/M, Post-Series, Pre-Slash, Schmoop, Sleepiness, Team Free Will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-11-30 00:55:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/693514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maydei/pseuds/maydei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, it really <i>is</i> just that easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Curtains

Sam is laid up in bed in their new house, wrapped in bandages, but on his way to recovery. Dean’s sitting by his bedside; he’s exhausted, so he gets up and goes to his room. He sits there in the dark for a moment, and just whispers, “Cas” to the empty room. There’s no reply, but he doesn’t expect one. When the gates of Hell were closed, Heaven was supposed to be closed, too. And, even though Castiel doesn’t always answer, Dean thinks that if he could, now, he would.

But he doesn’t, so he probably can’t.

It hurts him more than it should. For just a second, his expression crumbles, and he runs his hands over his face—aside from Sam, Cas was his only other true friend. There’s Garth and Kevin, but they’re young; they’re Sam’s friends, not his. Dean has only ever had one friend, and that friend was Cas—Cas always looked out for him, looked after him, kicked his ass when Dean’s mind was fucked up, just like a best friend should. Cas made him laugh, and there’s so precious few things that can make Dean Winchester laugh anymore.

He sighs; he peels off his shirt, kicks off his pants, and climbs into bed. He lays there, staring at the ceiling for a little while, before he rolls over onto his side, trying to get comfortable. He can’t. Frustrated, he grabs a pillow and curls around it. He falls into a restless sleep.

It’s the next morning; the sun shines in through Sam’s windows as his eyes slowly open, and he relaxes back into his bed when he realizes where he is. For once, Sam Winchester is sleepy and happy, and as he turns over to go back to bed, he’s completely healed.

In Dean’s room, the light filters in through the curtains— _curtains_ , because Dean’s never had curtains before, and he will never admit that he _likes_ them—soft and blue and very much _home_. Dean’s face is peaceful, much more than it was before. His eyes open slowly and he blinks; he notices that there’s an arm slung comfortably over his waist.

He jolts, his head snapping around, and nearly headbutts Cas in the process; Cas, who is sprawled protectively, comfortably, at Dean’s back, his forehead pressed to the back of Dean’s neck, his mouth blowing warm, humid puffs of air over Dean’s skin.

“Cas?” He hisses.

Castiel is asleep. And, Dean realizes, Castiel is _breathing_.

Dean shakes him awake by the shoulder; Cas grumbles, reluctantly opening his eyes. When he realizes why, his irritation visibly melts away. Instead, he’s looking somewhat doe-eyed at Dean. “I didn’t intend to fall asleep. I have apparently overestimated my capabilities.”

“What the hell?” Dean hisses.

“Precisely,” Cas answers, voice fuzzy. “Hell is closed.”

“I thought Heaven was supposed to be on lockdown, too,” Dean replies.

Cas makes a sleepy noise of agreement, attempting to reconfigure Dean’s body so he can settle back in; autopilot. _Human_.

“Cas,” Dean breathes. “Tell me you didn’t. Tell me you didn’t get locked out.” His voice is thick with guilt.

“No,” Cas replies, somewhat impatiently. “I did not get _locked out_.”

Dean can practically _hear_ the air quotes involved in that statement.

“Well, good,” Dean says.

“I decided to stay here,” Cas finishes, cutting Dean off and leaving him speechless.

“But—” Dean stutters. “Cas, _why?_ There’s nothing for you down here; nothing that can compare to Heaven. There’s nothing.”

Cas stills at that, frozen like stone, just like he used to be. And then, so very slowly, Cas reorients himself back into Dean’s space.

“I see,” Cas says quietly. “You think I would not wish to stay.”

“Why would you?” Dean asks, incredulous.

“Perhaps I thought there _might_ be something for me _down here_ ,” Cas answers. “Perhaps I thought there might be something that _could_ compare to Heaven. _Exceed_ it, even, and often has.”

“I—” Dean says, upset and confused. “ _Cas—_ ”

“Will you turn me away, Dean Winchester?” Cas rumbles, voice soft against the back of Dean’s neck.

“No! Never!” Dean is offended Cas would even think such a thing.

“Good,” replies Cas quietly. “And nor will I ever turn you away. Not anymore, Dean. Not if this is where you wish me to be. For once, I find myself without orders, without a master to answer to, and I think I would like to enjoy the quiet. I would enjoy it even more if you allowed me to share it with you.”

Dean can’t find a way to reply to that, not at first. Eventually, he turns in Castiel’s arms, their faces close, his gaze scrutinizing. “Are you sure? I mean, a life with me and Sam—you’ll hate us in a week.”

“Never,” Castiel replies solemnly.

Dean’s eyes dart everywhere but Cas’ face until he has nowhere else to look. Cas’ eyes are human, softer than he’s ever seen them, but with a hint of that same steel that was present the very first time they met.

“Okay,” he says. “Yeah—yes. If you want to stay, you’re welcome here. Always welcome, Cas. There’s a ton of rooms—”

“I like this one,” Cas replies.

“Yeah,” Dean splutters. “I mean, thanks, it’s pretty nice, but it’s _mine—_ ”

“I think, if I am interpreting this correctly, that is why I like it.”

Dean stares at Cas. Cas stares back, unperturbed.

“Cas—”

“Dean.” He’s so damn calm, so unruffled, and his hand is so warm against Dean’s waist. “At this moment, I cannot think of a single place I would rather be in the whole of Heaven and Earth.”

Dean’s speechless. Castiel still hardly blinks, is still very still, but there is a hint of unfamiliar stubble on his jaw and his hair is mussed. It’s oddly appealing.

Dean can’t find an answer, so he simply settles, his head on the same pillow as Cas’. He doesn’t say anything as he closes his eyes and allows himself to drift, taking comfort in the curl of fingers around his waist.

When he opens his eyes again, Cas is staring at him. For once, this doesn’t make Dean jump.

“We have a guest,” Castiel says simply.

Sprawled at the end of the bed is Sam, much too large, his limbs sticking off in different directions—dead asleep.

Dean snorts. He looks back at Cas.

Cas blinks slowly, cracks a tiny smile that looks unpracticed but entirely genuine. “Hello, Dean,” he says, as if he is introducing Dean to an entirely new life.

It’s only fair to return the gesture. Carefully, he straightens a few strands of Cas’ hair, and when his arm settles, it’s comfortably cradled between them, his hand on Castiel’s hip. Cas’ hand slips up until it’s settled on Dean’s shoulder.

Dean smiles. “Hey, Cas.”

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
